


We’ll Find a Better Way

by AngstyHxcker



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Caretaker Shaw, Cutting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt Root | Samantha Groves, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Sameen Shaw Has Feelings, Self-Harm, TW: Blood, TW: Knives, TW: Self Harm, shaw - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:28:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22078468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngstyHxcker/pseuds/AngstyHxcker
Summary: After years of struggling on her own, Shaw shows Root she'll never be alone again.Trigger warnings: Self-harm, cutting, knives, and blood.  Please don't read if you can't handle these topics.If you need help: USA Suicide Prevention Hotline 1-800-273-8255
Relationships: Root | Samantha Groves/Sameen Shaw
Comments: 2
Kudos: 55





	We’ll Find a Better Way

The first time Samantha Groves harmed herself she was thirteen years old. The loss of Hanna taught her that the rules of the world didn’t matter. So she no longer had to follow them. Bad things happened to good people. No one cared. No one tried to fix it. She no longer feared getting punished for acting on the urge that had been growing for years.

Samantha Groves had little regard for the consequences of her actions. However, she didn’t want to have visible signs of vulnerability. With discretion in mind, the first time Sam didn’t use a knife. She didn’t use scissors, a sewing needle, or any of her later tools. She tore the skin of her thighs raw with nothing but her nails. 

The pain in her soul finally had a way out.

So she did it again. And again. Over the years she became more skilled. Even with the privacy granted by a life of anonymity, Root was always careful. She never cut deeply, always treated and cleaned her fresh wounds. Her body was littered with scars. Jagged lines and rough circles left by the knives and bullets of others. They never bothered her. But the neat, precise lines she created herself were constantly under a layer of the best scar cream someone else’s money could buy.

To be wounded by others and survive was a sign of strength. To be wounded from within was a sign of weakness. 

As Root began to get close to Shaw, she suspended her ritual. Not because Shaw made the pain go away, though it was more bearable when she was around. Root stopped because Shaw was a straight line. She was sharp, clear, firm. The rows of straight lines down her thighs represented none of those things. And Root was terrified for Shaw to learn how broken she was.

But things built up. The daily pain that collected in Root’s heart needed a way out. Every day it became harder and harder just to breathe. Even Shaw’s presence wasn’t enough. The fear of Shaw learning the truth wasn’t enough. 

So that night Root locked her door, turned off her cell phone and computers and unearthed her old toolkit. 

The Machine barked protest in Root’s ear for cutting their connection as low as she could. Root thought to answer but decided with no cameras or microphones to record her response, there was no reason. To her surprise, the Machine fell silent. She never thought she’d be relieved by the silence. But she had gotten too close. Too close to the Machine, to Shaw, to the team. Closeness only hurt. She had to remind herself of that.

Root settled in on her bathroom floor, her back pressed against the cool tile wall, her pants pulled below her knees. She opened her toolbox, a first aid kit from Hell, complete with ointments, bandages, and a selection of knives. 

Gently she pulled forth the hilt of an old favorite, a surgical scalpel she had stolen years ago. She loved the look of it. A single piece of steel formed into a beautiful blade. Root was eager to begin. It had been weeks since she had sat here like this. 

It was never anything big that led to these sessions. It was a collection of little moments that chipped away at her soul. If she had lived a life growing up surrounded by people who loved her, maybe she wouldn’t even notice these moments. But Root had spent the majority of her life alone.

Earlier they were working a number. She could hear fear in Harold’s voice. Not for her. But of her. For a moment, he was once again the man who locked her up in an asylum. To think of him seeing her that way broke through the cracks that had formed over the last weeks. Every time Sameen rejected her with more annoyance than flirtation, every time Reese or Finch second-guessed her, every time Fusco looked at her like she was about to snap. All of these little moments, every single day reminded her why people hurt.

The Machine, for her part, hadn’t hurt Root. Not directly. But when Root felt this low, she no longer felt chosen by God. She felt like she had just been the first one to harness God’s power for herself. Root had never hidden her actions from the Machine like this before, but all of her thoughts were infected by pain and she needed to deal with that alone.

The team built her. They made her feel like a good person for the first time in her life. They made her feel needed. More than that, they made her feel wanted. And in the next breathe, they pushed her back down. 

Root drew the blade across her leg. It didn’t take much pressure to slice her skin. There was a delay of several seconds before the pain set in. It was a dull burn. She repeated the act again and again until she reached the skin just above her knee. She sat back and admired her handy work. This was more than she usually did. And unlike the past, she made no rush to stop the bleeding. 

She just marveled at how precise and perfect the lines across her thigh were. How smooth and evenly they bubbled up with red.

Root had gotten so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard the locks on her front door get picked. Or combat boots storming down the hallway. Even now she was only vaguely aware that someone was pounding on the door. 

Root was momentarily alert when the wood of the door gave way and Sameen Shaw crashed into the bathroom. It didn’t seem real. Why would Shaw be here? Shaw who pushed Root further away the closer they got. Shaw who had no patience for Root hours ago. Shaw who deserves someone who isn’t broken. Deciding it was a hallucination, Root started to laugh.

“What the hell do you think is so funny?” Shaw barked crossing the room.

“You're here.” Root said simply, grinning. “I spent weeks trying to hide this from you and the first time I do it, you show up.” 

“Yeah, it’s fucking hysterical, Root.” Shaw grumbled with no humor in her voice. “Your Machine called me and told me you turned off all of your devices and locked yourself in the bathroom. She thought you might be doing something stupid. Guess what? She was right!”

Shaw took a step closer. “I’m fine, Sameen. You can go home.” Root insisted as reality sank in. 

“No.” Shaw said simply, no trace of anger in her voice. She knelt beside Root.

“Go!” Root insisted, her eyes welling with tears. “Please just go! Why are you doing this?”

“Because I care about you.” Shaw said firmly, as she carefully reached past knives and blades to get disinfectant for Root's wounds. “This will burn... but I’m sure you know that.” 

Between the burn of the peroxide, the emotional wounds, and the vulnerability of being exposed, tears slowly ran down Root’s cheek. The pair were silent as Shaw continued to patch up her thigh. The Machine, who has not again spoken to Root played her favorite music through her cochlear implant and Root knew that meant she cared too. 

When Shaw finished she sat beside Root with her back to the wall. “Do you want to tell me why you do this?” Her voice was flat, almost uninterested. It terrified Root. Not because she still believed Shaw didn’t care. But because Root knew this meant she felt an emotion so strong, she couldn’t process it. 

“Not really.” Root offered weakly, but she knew she wasn’t going to leave the bathroom until she did. “Is your phone on? I want her to hear this too.” Shaw nodded, placing her phone on the tile between them. 

“I don’t expect you to understand and I want you to know that’s okay.” Root began, addressing both ‘you’s listening. “A lot of the things I do don’t bother me. I’ve made peace with the things I’ve done in my life. But people... people have always been hard. At first, I cut because of Hanna. Then because of my mom. Then because I was lonely. And for a while, because it was just part of my routine like brushing my teeth or doing laundry. But recently... I’ve been closer to people than I’ve been in a long time. In some ways, closer than I’ve ever been. And sometimes it feels so damn good. But other times... It just makes me see every single reason why I’m not meant to be around others. And it hurts so damn much I can’t make it stop... unless... unless I do this. I tried to stop because I didn’t want you to know. But I fucked that up too.”

“You’re right.” Shaw said after a momentary pause. “I don’t understand. You annoy the hell out of me sometimes. But everyone does. And I like you a lot more than everyone else who pisses me off. Next time…call me before you do this. You know I’m not good with… emotions and stuff... but we’ll find a better way, Root.” Shaw’s voice was tight. Expressing her emotions felt like she was reading a script written by someone else. But both women knew, despite her difficulty expressing how she felt, Shaw thought Root was worth the effort and she meant every word.

“Thank you, Sameen.” Root said letting her head fall on Shaw’s shoulder.

Shaw didn’t tense at the contact. They sat in silence for several minutes. “Can that voice in your head order us two steak dinners?”

“Is this a date now, Sweetie?” Root purred, still not feeling herself, determined not to show more vulnerability. 

“You lost blood. You need iron.” Shaw replied bluntly. “And I didn’t come all this way for nothing.”

“It’ll be here in 30 minutes.” 

“Root, take your pants off.” Shaw said abruptly.

Root couldn’t help but grin. “Wow, Sam. Who knew a steak dinner would solicit that reaction?”

Shaw’s brow furrowed. “I just don’t want you to crack your head open if you stand up and trip on your pants. I also think it’s best if your wounds aren’t constricted. This is the one time I’m against your tight pants.”

“You like my tight pants?” Root beamed, sliding her pants off the remaining distance and kicking them to the side.

“Easy, Root. I may have healed you, but I can hurt you just as easily.” Shaw quipped.

“Sweetie, you say that like it’s a bad thing.” Root smirked genuinely. Shaw sighed and rolled her eyes, but Root knew she loved it. Shaw didn’t reply, but she took Root’s hand in her own. And Root wondered how she ever doubted that she was loved.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> If you are struggling with self-harm or depression, help is out there and you deserve it.  
> USA Suicide Prevention Hotline 1-800-273-8255
> 
> Self-harm text hotline https://www.crisistextline.org/selfharm


End file.
